


liberty (means different things to different people)

by stubborn_jerk



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Art, Best Friends, Betaed, Between Episodes, Dress Up, Gen, Gift Work, Humor, Introspection, Makeup, Mirrors, Other, Personal Growth, Pre-Episode: s03e01-02 Juno Steel and the Man in Glass, Pre-Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubborn_jerk/pseuds/stubborn_jerk
Summary: Not even two days since boarding and leaving Mars, Juno was already assigned on a mission. Some gala charity event where they had to steal the Gilded Globe of Reaches Far.He was doing this mission with... Peter Nureyev, the ex he couldn't even look at long enough without thinking about the last night they spent together.Well, ex was agenerousterm, really. Because that meant that there ever was a relationship to begin with. And that was the problem, wasn’t it, with working with Nureyev? Juno had left that night, before they even had something to call anything.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	liberty (means different things to different people)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, it's February 25th where I live. Where I live, it is [Gab's](https://twitter.com/navyblueart) birthday. Resident Juno lover/kinnie, drawer of sapphics, and half the reason why there's probably so many plays on the What Lies Beyond episode on Spotify.
> 
> Happy 20th, Gab. Have a good one. And yes, that title _is_ an [Anne Carson reference](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48636/the-glass-essay).
> 
> Big thanks to my very generous betas, [Danny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinghost) and [Jeannette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entropyre), who were very supportive of what I had when I showed them. They're both also excellent creators so please check them out! Honorary thank you to [Sameer](https://twitter.com/mangocltrus), who, along with Jeannette, read-along with me on this to spot some errors.
> 
>  **A little heads up before you read, this is a fic set immediately _before_ Man in Glass. When bringing up Nova, there will be some misgendering.** It's nothing huge but just to be safe.

A man once told him there was a galaxy of different possibilities out there. At the time, Juno didn't— hell, _wouldn't_ quite believe him. He wasn't inclined to.

After all, he was just Juno Steel, Private Eye, just small potatoes in Hyperion's big salad. If there were nooks and crannies on Mars he hadn't touched or seen yet, then that wasn't his problem. The galaxy was out of sight, out of mind. All he could do was fix his corner of it.

So maybe it was serendipity, or irony, or divine intervention—or, more likely, a sickly yet charming lady he met on the brink of death—that wrought this situation into being. That Juno would grow tired of his little red, familiar corner of the galaxy and meet that same man again.

Not even two days since boarding and leaving Mars, Juno was already assigned on a mission. Some gala charity event where they had to steal the Gilded Globe of Reaches Far, the first of four artifacts (damn, artifacts _again_?) they'll have to procure for their end goal: the Curemother Prime.

Right, this would be the perfect time to say that he was doing this mission with said man. Peter Nureyev, the ex he couldn't even look at long enough without thinking about the last night they spent together.

Well, ex was a _generous_ term, really. Because that meant that there ever was a relationship to begin with. And that was the problem, wasn’t it, with working with Nureyev? Juno had left that night, before they even had something to call anything.

The cruel, bitter old part of him couldn't help but bear its claws at the cold shoulder treatment, the part of him that reared for a fight that would never happen, the part of him that broke mirrors and ran recklessly into danger and locked himself into airlocks with bombs in them.

He ignored that part of him. Shoved it down the best he could while ignoring how much it chafed when Nureyev ignored him back.

_He doesn't owe you anything, Steel. **You** , on the other hand..._

Well.

There were things about this mission that didn’t have to involve Nureyev, and Nureyev seemed to have the same idea anyway, with the lack of reaching out.

And because he was working on it, instead of working himself up about that, Juno pushed himself into research and recon the moment Buddy and Rita left, relished in the feeling of being productive again. He looked up everything he always did: character profiles, staff, security detail, sponsors, invites (seeing _Fresh Starts, Inc._ on the sponsor list made his blood boil), and a whole bunch of other things he could do without too much of Rita’s help. (And when they came back, a whole bunch of other things he could do _with_ Rita's help.)

It was just that… As much as he needed to actually go to physical therapy and rest before he and Rita left Hyperion, it made him feel… _included_ in Buddy's grand schemes, somehow, and that's why he was here, wasn't it? To fill in that space in Buddy’s merry little crew that she seemed to think he could fill?

So.

A Nova Zolotov was throwing the whole event, some Saturnian art dealer with a ton of cash and a really bad haircut. Juno didn’t like the look of him, and he didn’t like the recent news about him either.

Nova was the type of socialite that had been born rich and seemed to intend to stay so. He made company purchases as soon as he inherited his estate and all of his parents’ non-art-related businesses, including the ones for his parents’ mistresses. He seemed nice enough that he helped pass the inheritances he didn’t care about to his half-siblings too, no funny business.

But that much accumulated wealth…

Nova also seemed to be the type of art dealer to show up in fashion magazines and shoots and the type of paparazzi stints that Juno saw frequently in Hyperion that even trips to the salon gets a whole page in the tabloids.

And then suddenly… he disappeared.

And now he was throwing an event.

Something was off about that and Juno couldn’t quite figure it out with just a couple tabloids and articles and videos of the guy.

“Mista Steel.”

Juno grunted, scrolling through Rita’s screen reader. “I’m not done yet, I’ll give it back to you in a bit, Rita.”

“That’s great, Boss, but I’m not really here for that.”

“Uh huh.”

“Miss Cap’n A is callin’ you.”

“I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Mista Steeeeeel.”

“Ritaaaaaa.”

“Juno.”

Juno looked up to see Buddy, arms crossed, standing behind Rita at his doorway.

“Hey there.”

“I admire your work ethic, darling, I do. But from now on I would like it if you were more insistent about punctuality.”

Juno blinked, locking the screen on Rita’s screen reader. He refused to feel sheepish about being thought of as sloppy on a new job. Aside from that, he had to reign in the urge to snap at Buddy for making him feel sheepish in the first place.

Baby steps, he thought.

“Oh, don’t worry about ‘im, Cap’n,” Rita cut in. “Mista Steel’s always like this. He’s never _really_ late, he just likes it better if he thinks he’s doin’ somethin’ in his own time.”

“Hey!”

Rita made a thoughtful noise, before going, “Well—”

“Get a move on,” Buddy said. “Ransom’s already waiting in my office.”

Juno bit his tongue at the mention of Nureyev’s alias and moved to get up from his bed. “You have an office?”

“If you have enough energy to joke, you have enough energy to remember the tour I already gave you. Run along now.”

It was stupid, really. It didn’t even seem like Nureyev was all that bothered about it so maybe he shouldn’t be either, right?

Who was he kidding.

Whether or not Nureyev was gonna be bothered by it, it was going to keep biting at Juno’s heels like a persistent ticking cat until he did something about it.

When he got inside Buddy’s office, he was confronted with an oxymoron: a silent Nureyev.

Buddy walked around the table on the other side of the room and Juno stopped just a ways away from Nureyev, making sure to stand as comfortably as he could appear. Seeing as Juno Steel wasn’t a comfort kind of lady, he probably looked more hungover.

“I’m afraid I couldn't assist you two in whatever findings you needed for this mission,” Buddy started without preamble. “That, of course, is regardless of the fact that you two didn’t ask for any assistance outside of what you asked of Rita.”

Juno shrugged, suppressing the need to react to Nureyev asking Rita for help but not his own partner for the mission. “There a chain of command we need to follow or something? All the info we know of goes through Rita anyway.”

Buddy waved him off. “Yes, yes. But have you considered that some of the things you’ve asked Rita, she had to ask me?”

Juno looked away. Nureyev muttered an apology.

“Anyhow,” Buddy continued. “Juno. Ransom. You will find your disguises in your quarters; you have three hours to complete the heist before the estate’s security systems pick up on our ship. Treat this as a test, darlings: nothing else we have planned matters if we cannot steal that Map.”

Juno looked at her then, “Wait, so you just called us here to sneak into our rooms and put our costumes in there?”

Buddy pushed away from her desk. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Juno?”

Juno rolled his eye. “No.”

“I’ll go and get ready then,” Nureyev announced, getting up from his seat.

Juno caught a glimpse of him then, though he didn’t mean to (he never means to any time it happens, but it does), as Nureyev walked past him to leave the room.

In that split second, Nureyev looked unkempt and a little out of sorts, like he’d never been— at least, not recently, or not in any of Juno’s dreams or memories. Well, _maybe,_ if he dug deep enough—

The door closed behind Nureyev, leaving Juno standing there like an idiot while Buddy watched him.

“Do you know what I think?”

Juno heaved a sigh. “You’re gonna tell me either way, so don’t let me stop you, I guess.”

Buddy crossed her arms, “Well, if you’re going to be like that—”

Juno glared at her.

Buddy put her hands up. “I’ll leave you to dress up, then, if you don’t want my insight. Seeing as you barged in and learned all of _my_ relationship problems the day we met already.”

Juno scoffed. “Buddy…”

“No! No, go on. Get dressed, you’ll need all the time you get, darling.”

He shook his head, feeling the fight drain out of him. “This isn’t going to be easy, isn’t it?” he grumbled.

“Why, it’s your first job, it’s not meant to be.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.

* * *

Judging how his first job with Nureyev went, he probably should have expected something like this. Given, if he’d prepared himself for something like it, he wouldn’t be hauling ass across the Carte Blanche, looking for Buddy.

He found her in the commons, with her feet up on the couch, drink in hand.

He stood by the doorway, huffing. “What the hell is that dress?”

“Very gold and very expensive, darling,” Buddy retorted. “Do you need help getting into it? It was custom-made to be easy to put on and remove, you know.”

Juno warred between propriety, being flustered, and stark indignation as he stammered. In the end, indignation won. “No, I— you can’t just _give_ me something like that.”

Buddy took a sip of her drink and raised a brow at him, bemused. “Oh, so you like it that much? I didn’t even tell you it was yours and you’re already claiming it, darling.”

“I—”

“Mista Steel!”

Juno jumped, spinning around as Rita came up behind his elbow, ducking as he turned a bit too fast. “Rita! Don’t! Just sneak up on me like that! How many times have I told you not to—”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about it, c’mon!”

Juno let himself be dragged away from the commons, whining the entire way because he’d already done so on the way over, why not keep it up?

“Seriously, Mista Steel, I dunno what you’re freakin’ out about!” Rita near-grumbled— she never was the type to grumble. “It’s a beautiful dress, you’ll look great in it, and you’ll be arm-in-arm with handsome Mista… Mista Ransom the entire time! Plus, you’ll look like a princess! Ain’t you ever wanted to be a princess before Mista Steel? I know you have, it’s every person’s dream.”

The door to Juno’s room pulled open and Rita pushed him inside with little effort.

“Not _every_ person,” Juno grumbled, plopping down on his bed. Rita’s little case of makeup was already on the small table that was his makeshift bedside table.

Rita harrumphed as she looked at his face, then the opened up dress bag laid carefully beside him. Juno made a point of not looking at it.

“Well, true, but I know _you_ did. Don’t think I haven’t seen you gettin’ all worked up over Chainmail Warrior Andromeda before, Boss, it’s all you can do whenever we go to screenings every year—”

Rita stopped short at that, palettes of eyeshadow, blush, and a tube of lipstick in her hands.

Rita was always moving, when Juno looked at her. Her mind was always faster than her body, granted she was way older than she looked, but she always had that extra energy to pull them both out of something alive. So when she stopped moving, it was nearly unnerving.

Trying to jolt her out of it, Juno argued, “Okay, first of all I liked Andromeda because she was a _warrior_ , not because she was a princess. Secondly—”

Rita still hadn’t moved.

“Rita?”

She didn’t answer.

“Rita, you okay—?”

“We ain’t ever gonna go to yearly screenings of Andromeda anymore, aren’t we, Boss?”

Juno bit at his lip, then shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, Rita.”

It was a wonder why she only now realized they couldn’t keep doing the things they used to do anymore. It was a wonder she never grieved the normalcy and routine as much as Juno did the months between the call and the Carte Blanche. Had she been too busy helping Juno to do it herself? Had she been distracting herself from the inevitability of it and he’d been too busy wallowing to himself to notice her?

It was a click of a moment— these things always were. One moment, Juno was fine and the next he wasn’t. And he was trying to work on that. And he was trying to be better at it.

Rita was her own person, she made her own decisions, had her own interests, and made her own friends. What she did on her own time and what consequences were wrought from that were completely unrelated to him. None of what Rita was feeling at the moment was ever going to be or had ever been directly his fault.

But for all that was worth, she’d been choosing Juno in the years they’d known each other.

And the fact of the matter was that Juno wanted to be so much better at choosing her too.

So, carefully, he said, “Well, it can’t be that hard to grab a copy and do it here. You can just hook up your comms to Buddy’s little projector thingie she used for the meeting yesterday and drag everyone with us so it feels like we’re watching it at Phoebus’. Right? It’ll be like we never even left.”

Rita looked up at him.

He felt like there was an edge to his tone when he said, “... would that work?”

And it was a click of a moment— things with her always were. One moment, Rita was quiet, the next it was like the clouds parted and there she was again.

“Oh my gosh, _yes!_ ” She clapped her hands together in a clack of all the makeup in her hands colliding at once and the bracelets dangling down her arms. “Mista Steel, you’re so _smart_ sometimes, I could kiss you!”

Juno huffed out a laugh, trying to hide his relief. “Don’t, I know you haven’t brushed your teeth since this morning.”

“Ooh! I even brought packages of our favorite popcorn flavors— I didn’t think we’d eat them because of _that_ , but aren’t you glad I brought ‘em anyway?” She put down the makeup next to Juno’s bed, grinning as she did before.

She looked down at it, then at Juno’s face again, then furrowed her brows in confusion. “Do we do your makeup _before_ or _after_ you put on the dress?”

“Usually after.”

She nodded her head, then pulled away from her pile of makeup to Juno’s other side. “Right, right. Go on then and put this on. Do you have the cute underwear set you bought with that gift card to Clemy’s I gave you for Boss Day three years ago?”

Juno sighed, standing up. “Wearing it.”

“Great!” Rita grabbed the dress and pushed it into his hands. “I’ll give you some privacy while I go get you some earrings from the Cap’n. You _better_ be ready when I get back.”

The door opened and shut for her, leaving Juno to grumble a “So much for privacy. You already know what my underwear looks like.”

With one last heaving yet relieved sigh, he lifted the damn thing to really get a look at it.

It was a beautiful gown, really. Almost a bit much with how grand it was, all gold and silky and bulky, shimmering when he moved it this way and that. Rita was right in that it really _would_ make him look like a princess. He could almost imagine it. Eyepatch and all, maybe shave a bit of his brows, even just something as simple as lipstick could make him fit the dress instead of the other way around.

So, it wasn’t the gown that was the problem, he thought with a snort. It was the fact that _he_ had to wear it. Grand things like these tended to get ruined by the end of the night, if he was the one wearing them. His own sari in the back of a closet in Hyperion was in good condition, but it didn’t have the same glow it did when he wore it with a great big smile the first time.

He walked up to the mirror he hung by the wall next to his closet and held the gown under his chin.

He watched his reflection force a toothed grin then, more demure, a close-mouthed smile. He tried to emit the same grace and elegance someone wearing a gown like this would have had. Madame Dauphin, he thought, then muttered. Madame Dauphin.

He rolled his eye. His reflection rolled its eye back at him. “This isn’t _about_ you, Steel,” he said to it. “Put on the costume, do your job, and get it over with.”

Unceremoniously, he shoved off his shirt and pants, unhooked the dress by the shoulder and wrapped it around himself.

He walked around in it, trying to get used to the sheer ridiculousness of the diameter of its skirt. He couldn’t even walk around properly in his own room without bumping into anything.

The door slid open.

“Oh, good! You got into it without breakin’ anythin’,” Rita said, the clack of jewelry and a pair of frankly terrifying, probably six-inch pumps in her hands. She grinned up at him, “Lookin’ good, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Am I supposed to _wear_ those? Just looking at ‘em is making my ankles hurt.”

“I hate to be the one to say this, but you’re not exactly at dancin’ height with Mista Ransom, Boss, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you wear a dress this grand and pretty with your gross ol’ boots that you haven’t shined in months, so Miss Cap’n A says you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

Juno plopped down onto his bed, watching her flit past him. She handed him a pair of earrings that looked like it could have cost more than most of his closet. “Is all this Buddy’s idea or yours, I think I lost the plot in there.”

“Well, what do you think we talked about when we went out for ice cream!”

“Streams,” he said idly, clipping on all the bits of gold and jewels he could handle. Rita pulled his eyepatch up and off his head. “Girls. I dunno, I haven’t been on a non-secretary date in a while. I just know that Vespa didn’t hunt you down when you got back so you _probably_ didn’t kiss Buddy.”

“That’s none of your business, Boss. Can you put on your shoes while I do up your face?”

“I’ll just put ‘em on afterwards.” He lied down on his bed and prepared for the worst.

They worked in relative silence after that.

The lull and the feeling of a brush on his face put him at ease. Every now and then Rita would mutter something under her breath but since she was messing around with his face, Juno couldn’t really make fun of her for it.

So instead, he reviewed the job.

Nova Zolotov, art dealer, charity auction-slash-gala after going off the grid, yadda yadda yadda. Security was pretty lax, last he checked, which was weird because it was a private company. There was only one accessible entry and exit point from the dome itself, which was a logistical nightmare but since the point of the disguises was to get out of there without getting caught…

It just all felt too weird, the arrangements and the planning too different from the common rich Martian prick’s tendencies.

Man, was he getting homesick for predictable Martian party stakeouts?

No.

No, he was right, something _was_ off. He probably wouldn’t be able to get to the bottom of it until he got to the event itself, but it had something to do with the security.

When Rita got to his eyelids— batting his hand away when he protested putting makeup on the eye they were going to be covering up anyway— he found the chance to ask about it.

“Can you run one last security check for tonight, Rita?”

“If this is you try’na get out of gettin’ your lashes done, Mista Steel—”

“It’s not! I swear, it’s not. Something just… Something’s not adding up and I want to see if anything’s changed since the last time we checked.”

Rita pulled back from his face.

Juno blinked his eyes open and tried not to feel weird about the powders and colors _definitely_ on his face that he could _definitely_ feel on his skin.

She looked back down at him, turning her head this way and that, then huffed. “Alright, I’ll go get your security stuff, but you’re _gettin’_ those lashes in no matter how much you hate it, Mista Steel, it just looks wrong! Like when the Grand Duchess in _Masquerade Madness II_ had a choker on—”

“Alright! I’ll let you finish. Now get off, I’m going to put on those death traps you and Buddy call shoes.”

Rita hopped off to go get her comms. Juno stood and patted his hair, trying to make sure it wasn’t flat in some places.

Shoving his feet into the shoes (that fit perfectly), he held his hands out for balance, and took a step or two forward to get his bearings. At this height, he couldn’t actually see his face in the mirror, so he had to slouch a bit further to see Rita’s work as she clacked around on her keyboard behind him.

And there he was.

Madame Dauphin, in his floor-length golden gown and six-inch pumps and one-eyed glory.

Looking like a goddamn princess.

It was probably Rita’s best work yet, which explained why she was so excited to do it. Despite her carpal tunnel, the wing on each eye was proportional, the work on his eyelids shimmering as he moved. It was a shame they had to cover up his other eye, but well, Rita wanted to do _all_ of his face.

He fit into the gown and gown fitted him. He could probably bend down to properly do the straps on his shoes too, no problem, instead of just letting the fit of the shoe do all the work for his feet.

“Not bad, Rita,” he said, because he had to say it now.

“Aw, geez, Mista Steel, you say the nicest things,” Rita said sincerely but idly. “I like to think that I was just workin’ with what pretty was already there.”

“Don’t butter me up.”

“I ain’t!”

Juno stepped away from the mirror. “Quit joking.”

“Mista Steel, quit bein’ modest.”

“Shut up.”

“Mm-hm.” She looked up from her comms. “I got your security check-in, by the way. And,” She snorted a laugh. “Can I just say, Mista Zolotov’s password’s pretty funny.”

“How so?”

“It seemed pretty long so I thought well, that’s weird, I’ve never met anyone on any of our ol’ cases before with that long of a password, no offense—”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, I checked it out and it was like…” She paused, clicking through some things before giggling again. “Remember-to-change-the-password-to-something-better-later-Nova.”

“All of that?”

“No spaces either. Seems silly, don’t it?”

He considered that, before going to her side, crouching down to properly see her screen. He dug through all that skirt so he could properly strap his shoes in. “Any changes, then?”

“None, he’s had this password since they got the safe installed.”

Juno shook his head, “I meant the _party_.”

“Well, Mista Zolotov asked the private security for a uniform change last minute over here,” Rita scrolled down on the page, making no indication of where ‘over here’ was. “There was also a quick change in the orders that they had to log over here. Apparently they’re doin’ this thing called _shrimosas_ , which sounds really good, Mista Steel, you should try to get me some. They sound kinda like those snacks they had in _Cuisine Queen_ —”

“Rita.”

“Right, right. Focusin’. This was all maybe last night around eight in the evenin’ but this _mornin’_ at around two, there was a huge shift in all the security cameras inside the ballroom.”

“All of them?”

“All fifteen.”

Juno bit at his lip. “Think you can get me a copy of all the new locations?”

“I already sent ‘em to your comms. Should I send a copy to Mista Ransom too?”

Juno opened his mouth, then closed it.

He almost asked who Ransom was before remembering that Nureyev was using an old alias. He’d been so consumed with the prep that he forgot he was going to be the Madame to Nureyev’s Monsieur to this charity auction.

Nureyev still hasn’t talked to him.

If Juno was the one telling him the news, would they finally get to talk?

“Well, I mean, it seems worth a try!” Rita said, shocking him out of his thoughts.

He’d said that out loud. He looked at her, trying to make sense of how optimistic Rita was. “You think so?”

“Sure, I do. It worked in _Scarlet Marks_ , when the pirate queen told her lover about the ship about to raid them within days— ooh! And they stopped fightin’ each other long enough to fight about how they’ve been keepin’ secrets from each other—”

Juno sighed as he strapped his other shoe on properly. “Alright, scooch over so you can put on my lashes.”

“Ooh! Right!”

* * *

Juno still wasn’t quite used to his heels when a knock came to his door.

“What?” he answered, pacing his room as Rita watched streams on his bed. Whatever it was involved a lot of bad accents and fabric rustling and he honestly didn’t want to stay long enough to get curious. “Who is it?”

“It is me,” Jet’s voice said through the thin metal of the door.

“Oh—”

“Jet.”

“Y-yeah, big guy, I know—”

“I was sent here to accompany you to your ride.”

“That’s real nice of you,” Juno said, making for the door before he could say anymore. He pressed the button on the panel and looked up at the big guy himself, dressed a little more formally than usual.

Juno couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate it. Jet looked handsome, cleaned up to look like their valet for this evening.

“Lookin’ snazzy, Mista Jet!” Rita trilled from his bed. “I see why they’re keepin’ you in the car tonight, you might just steal the show!”

“Thank you, Rita. I like to believe I look good as well, but I’m afraid the Gilded Globe of Reaches Far is the mark tonight, not any show.”

It was astounding to Juno how both smart and stupid Jet was sometimes.

“It was a compliment.”

“Yes, and I have thanked her.”

Juno took a deep breath. “You do look good though.”

“Thank you, Juno. You look beautiful this evening as well.”

Juno blinked and let the compliment wash over him with what could probably only be bemusement on his face. “Uh. Thanks, big guy. Rita, am I forgetting anything?”

“You got your comms with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Eyepatch on?”

“Yes.”

“Makeup wipes in case you get your lashes in your eye again?”

“Right here,” he patted his pocket.

“Then you’re all set! Good luck, Boss!”

“Alright, see ya, Rita!”

“Goodbye, Rita,” Jet said as Juno stepped into the hall.

He wobbled a bit, holding a hand out as his heel caught onto something. Jet held out an arm he could hold onto, which he readily accepted.

“I’m… not used to anything above a four-inch,” Juno explained.

“I cannot say I understand but that is alright,” Jet replied, tucking his arm in close as they walked. “I believe it was to level you and the thief’s heights.”

“Ransom,” Juno corrected.

“Yes.”

They were quiet as they walked the halls to the hangar bay, Juno’s hand in Jet’s arm as he tried to keep in stride with Jet’s pace in those stupid six-inch heels.

Once they left the living quarters, Juno said, “You don’t have to but… I dunno, it’d be nice if you actually said his name instead of just calling him a thief.”

“I do not know his name, Juno.”

“Well, he gave you one to call him by,” Juno snapped.

Jet didn’t respond to that.

“It’s just a thought,” he placated, not really knowing how to apologize for snapping so hastily. “I’m not going to try denying I don’t have difficulty calling him by it either. But even if it sounds like a lie, it’s better to treat him like a person instead of just his job title.”

They reached the hangar bay, letting the pregnant pause float between what could have been Jet’s response. Juno didn’t know if he expected him to suddenly ask what he and Nureyev had been through before (not that he could answer) or if he just expected Jet to be difficult about it (which he hasn’t been shy to Juno about being, so far).

He didn’t know what to expect with much of the rest of this crew either.

So when the door to the hangar bay opened and Jet led him in, he didn’t know what to expect from Nureyev either.

Or rather Monsieur Dauphin.

He always did look fetching in a suit. Juno’s seen him in a lot (and a lot less too) and the way anything he wore accentuated all his sharp edges and further softened the softer ones was one of the few things that made him _him_.

Rex Glass had been clean edges and dark, illusory, reflective. Duke Rose had been all panache and green. Peter Ransom, in Juno’s memory of Nureyev’s memory, had been cheeks still flushed with youth and the professionalism afforded to Akhnan dignitaries— cutthroat and just a bit ruthless.

Monsieur Dauphin reflected Madame, golden and ethereal and princelike, with all the flash of a new-money Outer Rim socialite.

A bit of _him_ peeked through though, from where Juno stood, though that may have just been him projecting.

After all, not _once_ has Nureyev looked at him. Sure, he greeted Juno when they came on, but other than that, Vespa was right. When in a room together, they barely acknowledged each other.

And maybe that was what he deserved.

But as Jet handed him off to Nureyev’s direction to make his way to the driver’s side, Juno couldn’t help but hope that maybe…

And there they were— those dark eyes, the dark circles hidden beneath clever concealer, tiredness showing through regardless. Those dark eyes met Juno’s and… stayed. 

Then dipped, taking him in, seeing him maybe possibly for the first time since Juno boarded the ship from that initial greeting on Mars, for the first time since Juno had left him half-asleep on a hotel bed.

Behind all the gold and jewels and artistry Rita put into forming Madame Dauphin from the ashes of Juno Steel: Nureyev saw _him_.

“You look... great,” Juno said, for a loss of anything else to say. “Never expected you not to.”

Nureyev… kept silent.

Like maybe breaking the silence wasn’t a thing he was interested in solving anyway.

Figures. It was stupid of him to think that a makeover was going to change Nureyev’s mind about the entire cold shoulder act.

All of a sudden, the idea of Madame Dauphin seemed a little too artificial, the dress feeling entirely too costume-like. His feet started emanating an ache he was going to have to be familiar with for the rest of the evening.

“If I look dumb, you can just say so,” he muttered. That seemed to snap Nureyev back in, making him meet Juno’s eye again. “I know I’m not the most good-looking person on the ship— hell, I can barely contend with the big guy on most days, right, Jet?”

Jet piped up, “What was that?”

“C’mon, just go along with it,” Juno urged jokingly, not really willing to look away from the way Nureyev was maintaining eye contact. “Right?”

The door to the ship proper opened, which was enough to snap Nureyev out of… whatever the hell that was. He thanked his stars for the distraction.

“Mista Steel! You _did_ forget somethin’!”

“I know, that’s why I waited for you,” Juno lied, turning, finally, away from Nureyev. “What’d I forget?”

Rita bound up, gasping a bit. “Your ring! You forgot your ring!”

Juno blinked, then nodded.

Right.

Outer Rim _newlyweds_.

“Here.” Rita handed it over, but before Juno could reach out for it, a hand cut him to the chase, gloved, with a ring finger that had its own ring already.

All of a sudden, Juno’s world minimized to that hand, to the arm connected to it that was the warmth by his side, and the smell of that same damned cologne he’s been trying to remember the proper notes of for almost an entire year.

“Allow me,” Nureyev said, close to his ear and oh-so familiar. It struck a chord in Juno— the sound of which he didn’t know he’d missed. “I believe it’s only proper that I put the ring on my wife’s finger for tonight, isn’t that right, dear detective?”

Juno stepped back to face him.

Not a lot of height difference for them tonight— Nureyev must not have been in sizable heels— but he still had to look up when he stuttered, “I, uh…”

Nureyev raised a brow at him, face impassive yet challenging, with a bit of that condescension and bitterness Juno righteously deserved. Despite it, he felt his mouth dry.

Unwittingly, he held his right hand out.

Nureyev sighed, reaching close to push it back down and grab his left hand. “We’re supposed to be from the Outer Rim, _Madame_.” He slipped on the ring— another perfect fit— onto Juno’s left ring finger. “When you’re married, where I’m from, it’s supposed to be on the _left_ ring finger.”

“... Right.”

“ _Left_ ,” Nureyev corrected almost cheekily.

Juno laughed without thinking.

“Wow... I didn’t know that!” Rita cut in, shattering the moment. “That’s pretty interestin’, Mista Ransom. And can I just say, you two look _so good_ , is it okay if I take a picture? I’m takin' a picture.”

“Rita…” Juno said, his voice accompanied by the sound of a camera flash going off. “You can’t just ask and not wait for an answer.”

“What, it’s just for my wall!”

Juno sighed. “If it’s okay with Ransom.”

Nureyev’s impassive smile didn’t falter, but he _did_ let go of Juno’s hand. Juno tried not to feel a bit too raw about that. “I would rather you don’t keep that, Miss Rita, it’s nothing personal.”

“That’s okay!”

“Is everything alright, now?” Jet said from the driver’s seat. “I would much rather we leave before Buddy sends Vespa down here to check on us.”

At the idea of Vespa checking in on them after the last time she and Juno almost had a fight for the bathroom earlier that morning, Juno winced. “He’s got a point.”

Nureyev, ever the gentleman, opened the door for him and helped get his skirt inside the backseat.

Juno scooched a bit farther in, making room for Nureyev to sit, but when he looked up, the door shut and the passenger side door opened.

Oh.

So, no sitting next to each other.

Got it.

It’s not personal, he thought to himself. And continued to placate himself.

With a centering breath, he leaned back in his seat.

And as he sat there in the backseat, alone, trying to recall all the facts of the case as Buddy counted down clearing out the hangar bay from Jet’s comms, he looked outside the window. At the stars and planets and asteroids, passing ships and cars entering in and out of orbit.

And he couldn’t help but feel just how… small he was.

Because it was true, what people say about the view from space. You could look at how much there was and how much there could still be left to see, and you feel your irrelevance in the grand scheme of things.

How silly he seemed then, to think he could make nebulous changes to Hyperion’s centuries-long struggles with crime and poverty. How silly he seemed to want to help like he wasn’t just some guy with big ideas.

And having that view of him from space was just as freeing as it was overwhelming. Because if anyone in space could see all those stars and know that there were stars still yet to see, then anyone in space could look at him and all of his actions and still know there was more to him.

That he wasn’t _just_ Juno Steel, Private Eye. That he was _also_ Juno Steel, son of Sarah, brother of Benten. Mick’s friend, Rita’s friend, Jet’s friend. Buddy’s new investment.

And maybe, if there was room in there for forgiveness, Nureyev’s partner.

He looked at the nebulous space that Nureyev put between them and hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are appreciated! 
> 
> If you've gotten this far, send love to Gab, who planned this all out with me in a fit of insomnia.
> 
> My sincerest apologies for the lack of Vespa Ilkay in this one, readers. Perhaps, I could interest you in an [AU with more of her?](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133048)
> 
> If you want to shout at me, the comments are open and all my socials are [here](https://stubbornjerk.carrd.co). I _will_ be posting the art references I had for this and, I suppose, if people want it enough, I can definitely do something for actual Man in Glass... who knows...


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